


Shacking Up

by Mistigris108



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Flirting, Fluff, Smut, relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-10-31 02:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10890000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistigris108/pseuds/Mistigris108
Summary: Adaar and Sera share a tent during expeditions for varying reasons and for Reasons.  Rating will change throughout the chapters.





	1. The Hinterlands

For the life of her, Adaar would never know why anyone would look at her and say “woof”, most people blanche and try not to move suddenly or even stand out at all. All she knows is that she’s blushing more under Sera’s oddly,  _ obviously _ , appreciative gaze than she ever has in her life. So when she leaves the war room to prepare, her mind is most definitely not on a certain, not-elfy, elf and definitely on packing for tomorrow’s trip to the Hinterlands. Definitely. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aaand it definitely was not. They had reached a new, potential, camp site, making sure to mark it on the map so that the scouts could come and properly set up at a later date, and had begun pulling out supplies for pitching tents. Vivienne and Cassandra had fallen into a quiet, efficient pace, while Sera scouted the narrow, rock-lined path to the northwest, while Adaar stood at the south entrance, making sure the bandits had no intentions of coming back.

“Inquisitor, we have a problem,” Cassandra’s voice rang out through the clearing and drawing Adaar’s attention.  She sheathes her sword and walks briskly over to two tents. Two tents. Two?

“Where’s the third one?” Adaar asks quietly. “I know for sure I packed three.” 

“It seems darling, as though one was left behind.” Vivienne’s voice is as cool as it is damning. Adaar can’t help but flinch slightly. Magic. Yuck. Fake politeness. Double yuck. Looking incompetent in front of Cassandra AND Vivienne. Death is preferable. 

“Inquisitor, one tent is large enough for the two of us, we are..” Cassandra pauses, trying to politely describe Adaar’s bulk in comparison to her own. 

“S’all good, innit?” Sera chirps from behind them. “You and miss Poncy Priss can share one tent, and I’ll shag up with the Inquisitor!”  Her bright smile is infinitely more dazzling to Adaar than Vivienne’s lightning, and perhaps more dangerous.  Adaar’s brain slow grinds to a halt, the words sinking in. 

“You want to-”

“Sera, my dear, I do believe the word is ‘shack’ up. Though hardly appropriate considering our dear Adaar has more sense than to-”

“What’d I say? I said shack up!” Sera huffs gently, the grin still a bright lingering in her eyes. “Look. You and Scary Seeker are normal size, right? Me, I’m small. And Adaar, she’s..  _ Woof _ .. she’s got size. Just makes sense, yeah?”  The elf bounds over to the second tent, larger by a fair amount to accommodate Adaar’s larger size. Adaar can’t bring herself to say that even she barely fits in the tent comfortably, especially not when Sera is already at the entrance, gesturing wildly with her free arm.  

Adaar takes a deep breath, definitely not a steadying one. Nope. Just a regular old deep breath. And if she inhales as she passes the elf, if she notices the smell of wood and ale and something that she can’t place, then she blames it on the exhaustion and the lingering smell of bandit.  She plops down gracelessly, shedding her armor and trying to contain it to a neat pile. Looking up, she sees Sera strip off the leather armor she wears, as naked and heedless as if she were alone.  The gasp is so instant and loud that it might as well have been an explosion. Sera’s grin is the very definition of shit-eating. 

“See something you like, Lady Herald?” 

Adaar is doing her absolute best impression of a fish to date. Wide eyed and slack jawed and staring. Sera takes a few strutting steps closer, still very naked, and leans down. Her lips graze the edge of Adaar’s ear and the shiver she gets in response is encouraging. “It’s time for bed, Inquisitor.”  The Qunari can’t breathe, her lungs are not working. And the seconds drag on as Sera very slowly backs up and pulls a rumpled and incredibly holey cotton shirt from her rucksack and slips it over her head.  Her grin never wavers as she shimmies out of her leggings and tosses them onto Adaar’s pile of armor before disappearing under the small pile of furs and blankets, only her blonde hair, eyes, and tips of her ears visible.  Adaar shakes her head, shutting her eyes firmly for a moment and taking another deep, definitely not steadying, breath.  Adaar rips off her boots and settles herself on the ground, her body too warm and too aware of the small body curled up just inches away. It takes a good while for the Qunari to fall asleep, the least of the reasons being the incessantly twitchy elf beside her. But eventually, Adaar drifts off. 

Her sleep, which used to be refreshing and restorative, is ruined by nightmares of the Temple of Sacred Ashes; of being chased by spiders as big as she, of people dying because of her. Tonight is worse, she’s standing at the center of the ruined temple, bodies surging up around her, clawing their way up her torso, trying to drag her down into whatever endless pool of green, Fade-y magic bullshit they’ve sprung from. And they just keep coming. She tries to run, tries to move away, but can’t. Their hands are cold and feel sharp against her skin, and while fighting one away, another lands solidly on her chest, forcing her to the ground. The body is cold and squirming, it’s feet and hands burrow into her clothes as her mind struggles to free itself and wake up. A jab to her side and she gasps awake, bolting upright.  A thud and small groan as a blond head drowsily raises from her side.  “Whass’a matter?” Adaar rubs her hands over her eyes, trying to find Sera in the gloom of the tent. 

“Bad dream,” the Qunari mutters, her hands ghosting over her torso, still feeling the lingering cold. “Why is my skin cold?” The question is barely more than a whisper, but it’s still there. “I’m never cold..”

“Bloody furnace you are,” Sera quips quietly.  “I was freezing my friggin bits off and there you were, all toasty like a dragon.  So I was layin’ on ya.”  Adaar’s eyes nearly bug out of her head, her mind racing.  “Didn’t think you’d mind s’much.” Sera looks almost upset, but the darkness makes it hard to be certain. “I’ll keep to m’self I guess.”  The elf turns over, her back towards Adaar, and she visibly shivers. “Bloody mountains, being bloody cold,” she whispers quietly.  Adaar takes a deep breath, something she does a lot of around the elf, and lies back down. But this time, she curls her massive frame around the shivering elf, her arm snaking shakily over Sera’s stomach. She tells herself it’s because she can’t bear to see someone suffer, that it’s purely because the tiny elf would surely freeze without extra warmth. What she doesn’t know and can’t see, is the elf’s wicked, self-satisfied smirk, and the empty flask with a crudely drawn snowflake on it. 

“G’night Sera,” Adaar whispers into the top of the elf’s head. 

“Night Herald. … Herald.. We’re gonna have to do something about that.”


	2. The Fallow Mire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I…” Adaar stumbles over her words as her feet stumble slowly through the mud towards the tent, mind racing with thoughts of the elf snuggled into her. “I’m coming..” she mutters weakly.   
> “Not yet, you aren’t.” Sera sticks her head out of the tent smirking, her voice drowning in the rain as she slinks backwards into the tent. Adaar spares a desperate glance towards Bull, whose smile only widens impossibly.   
> “Sleep tight, Boss.”

If the Fallow Mire has ever held anything of interest, the rains have consumed it almost entirely. Between the mud and the plague bodies and the never ending rain, there is little enough to pique the curiosity of anyone- let alone two Qunari warriors, a possibly batty elf, and a very annoyed Enchantress. Despite its many, distinct, unpleasantries, the Mire is- rather, was- the only safe route the Inquisition soldiers have to reach Haven from the West; and for the life of her, Adaar will never know why anyone would choose to come this way just to capture soldiers. But they did.  

The forward camp is small, and whatever fires are burning seem to be constantly choking on the rain. With every step, Adaar’s boots sink into the mud, making a grotesque sucking sound as she yanks them out. Even Sera’s initial delight at the noise fades quickly, replaced by a steady  stream of curses. 

“Friggin rain. Mud. Piss. What’re we even doing out here?”    
“Boss says some soldiers went missing down here, captured by Avaar,” Bull answers, though he’s certain the elf didn’t hear a word of it. “There’s Harding.  She’ll have a report for us”.  Adaar quickens her pace, already anxious and uneasy.    
“Scout Harding!” Adaar calls to her as the group approaches.  “Staying dry, I hope?”

“Not everyone is as tall as you.. Some of us find it hard to stay out of the mud, but we’re doing our best,” Harding replies with a small grin. Behind Adaar, Sera’s indelicate snort carries.   
“Yeah, you’re widdle! Not that there’s sumthing bad about it, you’re just, widdle!”  She bounds up between Adaar and Harding, her right hand hovering just a hair above Harding’s head, while the fingers of her left hand stretch up to Adaar’s face, barely grazing the beginning of the Qunari’s horns. “Bet she’s plenty strong to carry us both, eh?”  Sera cackles, nudging the scout in the shoulder before scooting off towards a small fire. Adaar reminds herself to count to five before answering, not trusting her voice to remain steady. 

“I’m sorry, Scout Harding. Is there anything we can do to make the camp more.. Dry?” Adaar asks, suddenly keenly aware of the risks the Inquisition’s lead scout may face in a bog infested with walking plague corpses. “Would raising the tents on stilts help? Or..”

“Find our men fast, so we can all get out of here. That’s the best thing you can do for everyone, and especially me.”

“You have my word, Scout Harding.” The Qunari nods gravely, the weight of the missing soldiers has been bearing down on her conscience since the news reached Haven. 

“Getting to our troops won’t be easy, you’ll have to fight your way through undead. I hope you aren’t squeamish. The Avaar that took our men are holed up in the castle on the other side of the bog, but there’s no telling what else you’ll find between here and there.” 

“We’ll head out right away, then.”  Adaar only manages several steps towards the edge of camp before Vivienne’s voice reaches her. 

“My dear, as eager as we all are to retrieve the soldiers, I believe it would be wise to spend the night resting. The Avaar are not known to be merciful.”

“She’s right. A night’s rest is a good idea, and we’ve got the tents pitched already.” How Harding manages to be chipper while mud is slowly consuming her ankle, Adaar will never know. “We’ve got three tents: one for the scouts and me, and two for you guys. Figure you’re all used to bunking up by now, so I hope it isn’t a problem.”

“Oh we’re  _ definitely _ used to shacking up! Aren’t we, Herald?” Sera’s lascivious giggle makes Adaar blush a deep, reddish gray, though it’s thankfully hidden in the gloom.  The Qunari’s mind flashes to the Hinterlands, the memory as clear and sharp as the cold that woke her. The impression of Sera’s small body tucked perfectly against her still lingers, and she can’t bring herself to look up as she takes slow and measured steps towards the tent that the elf has already seemed to claim.

“Viv and I will take this one, Boss.” Bull jerks his head towards the third tent, already shifting the great sword from his massive frame. 

“You will address me as Madame Vivienne, First Enchanter or-”

“Come off it, Vivvy!” Sera shouts. “You know he’d just as soon sleep outside if you said so.” Bull chuckles, leaning towards Adaar. “She’s not wrong. It’s the horns. Can’t say no, even if they’re not real. And she’s definitely not about you two shacking up, I hear.”  He grins widely, clapping his hand over Adaar’s shoulder. “Figures you’d like em limber, eh Boss?”  Adaar splutters, her face darkening to a shade almost plum. Before she can even formulate a response, Vivienne shoos her towards the tent.    
“My dear, you must get some rest. And fear not. I won’t be asking anyone to sleep outside.”

“Come on, Herald. It’s bed time.” The waggle of Sera’s eyebrows, plus the bright pink of her tongue against the dark sky has Adaar at a complete loss. Her feet sink into the mud as she stands stock-still, her mouth agape. “I said come on! Can’t stay warm all by my lonesome!”

“You better go, Boss,” Bull chimes. “Best not to keep a lady waiting.”  His cheshire grin wrinkles his eyes into near nothingness, while behind him Vivienne makes a politely disgusted noise. 

“I…” Adaar stumbles over her words as her feet stumble slowly through the mud towards the tent, mind racing with thoughts of the elf snuggled into her. “I’m coming..” she mutters weakly. 

“Not yet, you aren’t.” Sera sticks her head out of the tent smirking, her voice drowning in the rain as she slinks backwards into the tent. Adaar spares a desperate glance towards Bull, whose smile only widens impossibly. 

“Sleep tight, Boss.” Bull smiles before folding himself into the tent. A strangled whine works its way out of Adaar’s throat as she turns to face her tent once more, trying to collect her thoughts. If she was honest with herself, then yes: Sera was pleasant to look at, so it can’t be all bad. 

Ducking her head into the tent, Adaar catches sight of the elf, once more stark naked and entirely uncaring. The Qunari yanks her head out of the tent again, her horns catching on the fabric before Adaar manages to free herself. Okay. So Sera was VERY attractive. Not that she’s put thought into it. Because it absolutely has nothing to do with a life of seeing her kind as ungainly and too large and too out of place. Not because Sera is the antithesis to her in all ways. Her skin is light and fair and freckled, where Adaar’s is grey and scarred and painted with poison; Sera’s body is small and lithe and just  _ fits _ in places, and Adaar has to hunch and make herself smaller and less. Sure Sera’s open admiration for her is pleasing, and the elf is always pleased to be appreciated in turn. It has even less to do with Sera’s unbridled enthusiasm and her desire to help people. Or even the way she hides how deeply she cares under crude jokes and inappropriate banter. No. Adaar hasn’t given it a single thought. Not. A. One.  Taking a deep breath, Adaar pushes her way into the tent and sighs in relief, and no small amount of dismay, to find Sera clothed in her normal, ratty shirt. 

“Took you long enough, Herald. Thought maybe you’d followed Bull,” Sera grins at her in the dim light of the tent. “He makes me wonder about… things. But not like that! Just all that Qunari stuff, it’s all just.. Phwoar.”  Adaar feels something in her deflate slightly at the mention of Bull and his ties to the Qun. She’d never had that life, so she didn’t miss it, or even understand it all that well. Her parents didn’t talk much about it, and her most of her kith had openly despised the teachings of the Qun. Adaar turns to face the wall of the tent, slowly stripping off her armor and trying not to think about the small pearl of hurt sitting in her gut. 

“That paint stuff on your face… do you take it off every night?” Sera’s head pops into Adaar’s peripheral line of vision. “Is it really dangerous if I touch it?”  The elf reaches a hand towards the Qunari’s face, fingers twitching with curiosity. Adaar’s eyes widen, her hand snaps up and wrapping tightly around Sera’s wrist to stop her from touching the Vitaar. 

“Very dangerous,” she chokes out. “Vitaar could kill you if you touch it.”

“But it doesn’t hurt you?”   
“No..”   
“What’s it feel like?”   
“Like… liquid armor I guess.” Adaar shrugs noncommittally, trying desperately to ignore the softness of the elf’s skin under her fingers. 

“So you gonna take it off then, or what?” Sera asks, quieter than usual. Adaar whips her head around, eyes wide. “I mean the Vita-whatever. You gonna take it off so we can get cozy again?”

“I.. don’t think it’s a good idea,” Adaar says quietly, her eyes casting anywhere but at the elf’s face. “If we get ambushed, it’d take too long to reapply. I want to make sure we’re as prepared as possible.”  Relaxing her hand, Adaar releases Sera’s wrist and instantly regrets the loss of warmth. Had she been looking at the elf’s face, Adaar would have noticed the slight droop that followed, but as it was, the small disappointment was missed and instantly replaced by the archer’s characteristic grin.    
“S’all good! I like it when you’re ready to go.” Sera turns and throws herself down onto the blankets and furs, sprawling out to take up a predictably large amount of the tent space before burrowing under them. Adaar can’t help but chuckle as she shucks off her boots before lying down on top of her blankets. Even with the rain, she can’t bear to sleep under the amount of blankets provided. 

“Maybe next time?” Adaar offers at a whisper. “I mean, once we’ve found the soldiers, I won’t really need it as much.” Sera’s eyes light up, brighter than the lightning that flashes outside.    
“That would be grand.”

“Then.. I.. yeah.. Next time.” Adaar turns to her side, to face the tent wall, as she settles in. “I’m not ignoring you, I just don’t want you to accidentally touch my face and get hurt.”  The Qunari doesn’t know why she’s explaining, or why it feels so important, but she does. 

“S’all right, Herald. Your butt’s nice too.” Sera grins wildly as she scoots towards the warrior, her tiny body barely fitting along the Qunari’s back. “You’re plenty warm anyway, even if it is your back.” Adaar can feel the elf’s smile and can’t suppress one of her own. Sera has molded herself to her back, with her toes just barely reaching the top of Adaar’s calves, while Sera’s face is pressed just below Adaar’s shoulder blades. “Night,” she says as her fingers seek out Adaar’s and laces them together. 

“G’night Sera.”

 

~

 

“Piss! Not again! Fuck.” Sera’s litany of swearing only continues as she struggles to free her feet from the muck at the water’s edge. “Friggin hate this place! Bodies? Stupid. Rain? Stupid. Mud? Stupid.” 

“You know Sera, every time you pull that move this happens. Maybe you need a better vantage point?” Bull offers by way of advice, while walking towards her to unstick her yet again. “The leaping thing is badass, but you always land in the mud and get stuck.”

“If I can’t- URGH- rain bloody- AH!- pissing arrows, then what am I friggin here for?” Sera’s irritation reaches a new high as her struggling sinks her deeper into the mire. 

“Thought you were here to keep the Boss’s bedroll warm,” Bull gives her a sly smile as he pulls her from the offending mud. Adaar’s eyes nearly bug out of her head as she’s rummaging through the remains of the… well.. remains.  She manages to cover her spluttering cough by plunging her hands into the slimy corpse. 

“Charming as this crude chatter may be, I believe the fortress is just up ahead, and while we’re here wasting time, our soldiers are still missing.” Vivienne arches a chiseled brow at Bull, her impatience etched in every inch of her face. 

“She’s right,” Adaar adds, standing up and stuffing the requisition items into a phial. “We’ve gotta go get our soldiers.  Whatever is between us and them won’t make it to the end of the day.” Adaar draws her sword, gesturing towards the dimly lit gate ahead. “Let’s go.”

“Let’s kill this bloody shite-bag and get it over with.” Sera grumps as Bull lowers her back onto her feet. 

The fight through the fortress is brief, and the Avaar between Adaar and her soldiers fall too easily for her liking. The stone causeway leading up to the encampment was as empty as it was wet, right up until the archway. A voice booms through the rain, sounding as loud and long as the thunder that rumbles ceaselessly through the Mire.

“Herald of Andraste. Face me! I am the hand of Korth himself! Come and claim your kith, if you can!” The Avaar leader shouts, feral and fierce, just as the surrounding area erupts with arrows coming from behind the challenger. Adaar raises her shield and dashes forward, locking shield to shield with one of the forward Avaar. Vivienne was not lying. They were no slouches in battle and gave nearly as good as they got. Only Bull’s victorious shouts carry over the din of the fight as he cleaves one of the archers in two. 

“Who killed you? Iron-fucking-Bull!”

Adaar drives into the warrior once more, inching him back and back until he’s pressing up against a stone column. An arrow whizzes past her head and lands square in the eye of the warrior and he howls in agony. Adaar turns quickly to see Sera nocking a second arrow and winking at her. Blinking stupidly for a moment, Adaar finally remembers where she is and turns hard, bashing the now blind Avaar into the column. His head snaps back and collides with the stone and he crumbles. 

“Release my soldiers!” The Qunari shouts. “Your fight is with me, not them!”

“You think you can make demands of me, low-lander? I’ll release your men if you can win them back!” The Avaar swings his hammer high above his head, preparing for what Adaar knows with be an earth-shattering barrage of strikes. And sure enough, she can feel the ground tremble as the head of the hammer connects with the ground. Adaar reseats her shield and prepares for another bashing charge, only to have Bull racing her to it. The larger Qunari’s snarl is cut short by a groan of pain as Korth’s hammer connects with his side . From beside her, Adaar can see Vivienne winding her staff up for an attack, waiting for the precise moment Bull is out of range.  A moment passes and a bright flash and deafening crackle rush Adaar’s senses. Opening her eyes, she sees the Avaar trapped in a storm of lightning, his hammer slack at his side as one bolt in particular stuns him. Adaar knows an opening when she sees one and rushes the Avaar with every ounce of strength and speed she can muster; her shield crashes hard against the Avaar and sending him scant few steps backwards. Sera’s arrows continue to fly much to close to Adaar’s head, all landing solidly in the Avaar leader’s body.

“Could you maybe not shoot so close to my face!?” Adaar yells to her, the strain and panic only too evident in her voice.    
“What? Like I’d miss and waste an arrow on yer butt?” Sera cackles before dropping a stealth bomb. Adaar takes a deep breath and turns back to the Avaar, but stops a moment later at the hard smack on her butt. “Told you I wouldn’t waste an arrow on it.” The voice comes from seemingly nowhere, but Adaar knows better.  She shuffles back several steps preparing for another charge, when suddenly Sera leaps backwards out of stealth, releasing multiple arrows at a time. Bull was not wrong earlier when he said the move is badass. How Sera manages to nock that many arrows and fire them with as much precision as she does is a mystery to Adaar, but still immensely impressive. But the moment is brief, and the next thing the Qunari registers is the slight, sturdy weight of Sera standing perched on her shoulders. 

“What are you doing up there?!” Adaar yells, trying to keep one eye on the Avaar now pushing beyond the wall of lightning, while simultaneously trying not to move so Sera doesn’t fall from her new perch. 

“S’all good. Bull said I needed a better vantage point, and you were right here. I shoot, you swing. No time to chat, Herald!” Sera’s balance is as remarkable as her talent for mischief, as she manages to stay upright while Adaar rains blow after blow down onto the Avaar. He’s dazed, and is full of more arrows than any body has a right to, as he falls to his knees. Adaar contemplates sparing his life, but remembers the bodies of her soldiers left to rot on the side of the road. She screams with rage, her sword making one clean swing towards the Avaar’s neck.  Sera slides down the Qunari’s back and lands gently on her feet right behind Adaar. Laying a gentle hand, she motions towards the pouch cinched around the fallen Avaar’s waist. 

“Bet there’s a key or summat in there. Soldiers can’t be far.” She crouches down and loots through it, triumphantly pulling out an old brassy key. “Let’s get our people and get back to camp, yeah?”  Adaar nods quietly, her mind replaying the final moments of the battle. Turning, she sees Vivienne forcing a potion down Bull’s throat.  The Enchantress nods- no one will die today. Adaar makes a mental note to thank Vivienne for her watchfulness over the others, even if she knows the mage will deny any such thing later.  Sera’s voice breaks through the low buzz in Adaar’s head: “Herald! There’s voices behind this door.” Adaar jogs over to where the elf stands, putting her ear against the wood of the door. 

“Open it, Sera,” she says. The elf jams the key into the lock and turns it. 

“Bless the Maker! We knew you’d come! What did I tell you, the Herald came for us herself!”

“Are you okay?” Adaar asks, her eyes scanning the group of soldiers all huddled in the small stone room.

“We’ll be fine, Herald. Some of the injured will need rest, but we should be able to make it back to Haven. Maker bless you, Herald of Andraste.”

“There’s a clear path back to the main camp. If you can make it, there are supplies and tents. Don’t travel until you’re well and able.” Adaar turns to see Sera leaning against the wall, a small smile playing on her lips. “The four of us will head back to camp and send word ahead that you are all okay. 

 

~

 

“You did good today, Boss.”   
“Thanks Bull. How are you feeling?”

“A little sore, annoyed that one of those stupid rogues flanked me, but I’ll be fine after getting good and drunk and sleeping for a day or so.”

“Vivienne, thank you.  Your spell-work is lightning fa-” Adaar giggles quietly. “Lightning fast. Get it? Cause you make lightning?” The Qunari chuckles openly for a moment, allowing the tension of the last day fade from her body. Sera giggles from off to her side. Vivienne does not look quite so pleased. 

“Thank you, Lady Adaar, for that astute assessment of my abilities.” The comeback lacks the Enchantress’s normal hint of disdain and Adaar knows that Vivienne heard what she was really trying to say. 

“I’m going to find somewhere to wash that doesn’t have bodies floating in it,” Adaar offers to no one in particular, before she turns and heads off away from the camp.

A few hundred feet away, Adaar sinks to her knees before a strong stream, and unclips her armor. Sighing, she lays it down next to her and dips her hands into the cold water. 

“You didn’t say no one could join you,” Sera says from behind her. “Figured you could use a lookout.”  Adaar smiles down at the water. 

“Thanks Sera.” Raising her head, she turns to the elf, their eyes meeting. “You’re really something with a bow, you know. And standing on my shoulders! I’ll never know how you kept your balance. I’m glad you’re on our side.”  Sera titters, coming to sit down next to the Qunari. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Herald of Andraste. Bull wasn’t shittin’ you either. You did pretty great today.” There’s a note of something in Sera’s voice, but Adaar isn’t quite sure what it is. “Washing that Vitaar off, yeah?” The elf grins and raises her eyebrows expectantly. Adaar can only laugh. 

“Yeah, I am.”  The two sit in relative silence while Adaar slowly washes the paint off of her face. Occasionally the Qunari glances over to find Sera leaning over the stream, making faces at her reflection in the water. She laughs quietly as Sera suddenly dunks her entire head into the stream before throwing it back and shaking it wildly, sending water everywhere. Adaar grins at the archer, following the path of a stray drop of water as it treks down Sera’s face. The Qunari reaches out, rubbing her thumb over the droplet just before it falls from her chin. The tip of her finger only just grazing Sera’s bottom lip. Adaar’s heart thumps painfully hard, harder even than it did during the battle with the Avaar, as Sera’s mouth opens just slightly, her tongue running over Adaar’s thumb. The elf smiles wide and grabs Adaar’s wrist, yanking her up off her knees. 

“Come on Herald, gotta get some shut eye before we head back to Haven, yeah?” Adaar can only nod dumbly as she allows herself to be hoisted up. Gathering her discarded armor, the Qunari trails behind Sera as the elf nearly marches back towards the tents. There’s a scout on lookout who merely nods to the pair as they pass, and Bull and Vivienne have already retired to the other tent judging by the quiet, albeit gentle, bickering that makes its way through the flap. Adaar pulls the flap to her own tent to the side, allowing Sera to slip in first before following behind her.  Depositing her armor in its designated spot, Adaar works on shimmying out of her mail and boots, laying them gently on top of the pile. Why she is surprised to see Sera naked, again, is a mystery. She knew it was coming, but the shock of seeing the elf naked was always fresh.  Sera grins before turning her back to Adaar and bending over her bag and rummaging through it. The Qunari’s mouth goes dry at the sight of Sera’s long legs, and the curve of her ass. But it’s the barest hint of her sex that has Adaar unconsciously leaning towards her.  The shirt drops gracelessly over the elf’s backside as she turns and the smile on her face turns into one of predatory triumph. Sera leans down, trailing the backs of her fingers down Adaar’s cheek, who in turn leans just slightly into the touch. “We gettin cozy tonight, Herald?” Sera prods quietly, leaning forward to meet Adaar, their lips just barely touching. The Qunari’s mind goes blank at the sensation of Sera’s lips ghosting over hers. Instead of trying to speak, Adaar reaches for Sera’s hand and pulls her gently down onto the furs. The elf giggles as she allows herself to be guided to the ground and instantly seals herself against Adaar’s body. 

“Sera.” Adaar says thickly, her eyes dark and watchful. “I.. I am going to kiss you.” 

“What’re you waitin’ for? A friggin special envelope thing?” Sera leans in, the heat of the Qunari’s body is like a magnet. Adaar blinks quickly. 

“You mean an invitation?” Adaar asks, bemused.   
“Shut it.” Sera surges forward, her lips crushing hard against Adaar’s.  The elf kisses the warrior with the same precision she uses when firing arrows. Fierce, strong, focused, and unrelenting. It’s only when her tongue grazes the Qunari’s lips that Adaar comes back to herself and rolls on top of the elf, propping up on her knees and elbows. Adaar drops her head, seeking the heat of Sera’s mouth again, only to find a long finger pressed against her lips. Adaar opens her eyes to see Sera beneath her, beaming brighter than any sun, her eyes dancing with a mixture of satisfaction and mirth. “Easy does it, Herald. I like you. You don’t forget the little people.” Sera’s hand slips down to her side, fingers playing gently up Adaar’s arm. “We killed lots of baddies today, saved some people. We did good. But we also tramped through shite mud, too.”  Adaar nods, slipping off Sera and back onto her side, knowing full well that Sera would never actually admit to being tired. “Don’t look so sad. We’re still gettin’ cozy.” Sera flips to her side and immediately backs up into Adaar. The Qunari can only smile, and wraps her arm around the elf and pulling Sera snug into herself. 

“G’night Sera,” Adaar says quietly before placing a small kiss to the tip of the elf’s ear. Sera squirms briefly.

“Night Herald.” Sera snorts. “We  _ really _ need to do something about that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This went legitimately longer than I expected. And I hate writing fight scenes.


	3. Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Less of a 'tent sharing' and more plot interlude?

“I’m not saying what the Herald did was wrong, I simply think she made a rash decision.” Cullen paces the small, cold Chantry office- arms crossed and fingers drumming incessantly. “The Order has made many mistakes, I do not disagree; I merely believe that disbanding and conscripting them may prove unwise. Nor does it lessen the threat of this red lyrium.”

“While I agree with you Commander, what’s done is done. We must focus our attention on closing the Breach. With every passing day more rifts open and more demons appear.” Cassandra leans over the table, hands splaying wide over the map. “Once the immediate danger is passed, we can turn our attention to rebuilding the Order.” 

“We cannot know that the Order will not fall to the same corruption again. There are lieutenants that yet live and who may still pose a threat. And now the rebel mages refuse to speak with us. My agents in Redcliff have told me of a Tevinter Magister by the name of Alexius has appeared.” Leliana circles the war table, her arms folded, mouth a firm line. Josephine chimes in, her eyes still scanning paperwork.

“We are still dealing with the repercussions of Lord Abernache’s death at Therinfal Redoubt. His family will, no doubt, want some kind of official remuneration from the Inquisition. We cannot forget that our current alliances are significantly more precarious now than before the attack.”

“Then we must close the Breach now. It is the only way to put the dissent to rest, as well as secure the confidence of our allies,” Cassandra’s words are laced with the unwavering finality only faith provides.

Outside the closed door, Adaar drops her head back against the stone wall, her body sagging slightly towards the cold wall. Cassandra and the others have been talking in circles for hours, arguing over the actions taken, weighing the pros and cons, laying out thinly veiled condemnation and criticism; Adaar knew she needed to join them, but couldn’t muster herself enough to walk through the door.

“If they don’t trust me, why did they even _send_ _me_ in the first place..” The Qunari sulks quietly, her back finally pressing fully into the stone wall. “It’s not like Cassandra wasn’t there. She saw what happened. A choice had to be made.” Adaar drops her head, shutting her eyes in the vain attempt to close herself off to the voices droning on behind the door. “No one saw the things I saw”.  She shudders violently, her mind reeling back to the whatever place the Envy demon had taken her. No one saw the consequences of allowing the entire Templar order to fall to that creature- or any like it. Adaar pinches the bridge of her nose and allows herself to slide a few inches down the wall. “I didn’t want any of this!” she growls, pushing hard against the wall and taking long, hurried steps forward. “I didn’t ask for this to happen.” Adaar stares down at her hand, the mark glowing a sickly, bright green. “I didn’t want th-”.  The Qunari’s collides hard with another body, and while it was a small bump to her, such was not the case for the other person. Adaar whips her head up only to see Sera falling backward, her head dangerously close to a table.  She reaches out, her hand wrapping solidly around the elf’s wrist before any real damage can happen. Adaar’s heart pounds. “I- I’m so-.. I’m sorry! I wasn’t.. Fuck. Are you okay?”  Pulling in the archer, Adaar’s eyes scan rapid-fire over Sera’s face and body, hoping that her distraction didn’t cause the other woman injury. 

“I’m alright, ya loony. Didn’t know you talked to it. I mean, you already glow. You givin’ it a pep talk or sumthin?” Sera grins up at her, not seeming to mind that her wrist is still entirely encased in the warrior’s hand. She leans in, pressing a hand to Adaar’s chest. “Didn’t figure you’d need any kind of help, yeah?”  Adaar splutters uselessly, her face heating up so quickly it feels like she’s on fire.  She opens her mouth to reply, but only a small choking sound comes out. “We’re all good, yeah? No bumps here, and you’re still…  _ woof _ , right?  So it’s all great.”  Adaar freezes, her eyes locking onto Sera’s; the elf grins and steps back, gently pulling her wrist from its confines. “You look like you could use a bit of fun,” Sera quirks an eyebrow at Adaar, her grin widening. “I was gonna wander down into the tunnels underneath and see if those ancient Chantry sisters hid stuff in their drawers and then locked away for secret. Wanna come?” The Qunari smiles, relieved beyond measure that the elf just goes with the flow of things. She knows Sera doesn’t ask a lot of questions because the archer herself doesn’t like having to answer them, and at this moment Adaar is infinitely grateful. 

“Maybe you could teach me how to pick locks?” Adaar asks, hope skimming the edges of her words. 

“I dunno, Laaady Herald. You any good with your fingers?” 

 

~

 

“Oh, Maker.. Sera, I’m-… I’m so sorry.” Adaar drops her head onto the wooden table, embarrassment snaking through her every vein. “I promise I’ll buy you new ones! I honestly didn’t think I was turning that hard.” Adaar wraps her hands over her head, her fingers weaving around her horns as she tries to shrink lower and lower and maker herself a part of the table.  She groans, closing her eyes hard against the memory of the small lock picks snapping in her hands. Her stupid, huge, too ungainly, stupid hands. “Uuuuuugh!” Adaar wails. “I hate this. I want to be smaller.”

“Shut it, you.” Sera swats at Adaar from across the table, a mild look of irritation on her face. “It’s not a big deal, right? S’just some lockpicks. I can nick some off Varric. Shite, he probably has hundreds. Besides,  _ I  _ like you all big and tall and.. Like you are,” she giggles before adding a quiet “woof”. “Jus’ buy me a drink and we’ll call it square, yeah?” Adaar sighs deeply and lifts her head from the table.

“That, I can do.” The Qunari stands, head still hanging low as she weaves her way between the scattered tables towards Flissa and gives a small wave. She likes bartender, and Flissa had quickly stopped startling whenever she walked in the tavern, always said hi, and didn’t treat her any differently just because she was an ‘oxman’. In fact, aside from Sera, Flissa was the only person who just talked to her at all. Whenever she spoke to Cassandra and the others, it was always business and the Breach and what to do about the Chantry. “Two please,” she says, smiling at the human. “And we’ll probably end up having more… so if you’re okay with me paying at the end of the night, that’d be wonderful.” 

“Of course, Lady Herald. You know I’m happy to serve you whenever you require.” Her words carry a suggestion that the warrior misses entirely-  Adaar smiles pleasantly and takes the mugs from her. 

“You’re the best Flissa, thank you.” The Qunari makes her way back to the table only to find Sera looking somewhat cross, her lips pursing slightly and one leg jerks testily over the edge of the bench. Sera refuses to give any dedicated thought as to why the exchange would bother her at all, so she does what she does best: she pokes.

“So, she’s happy to serve you is she? Guess I’m not the only one who likes ‘em big and tall around here.” The elf sucks at her teeth for a moment before grabbing the mug Adaar had just set down, and takes a long pull from it. She smacks her lips as the ale warms her throat and slowly worms its way down to her belly. Adaar’s head is tilted ever-so-slightly to the side, confusion playing across her eyes.    
“What?”   
“I mean, she practically offered to climb you like a tree,  _ Lady Herald _ .”

“I.. What? No. I mean, Flissa’s nice. She  _ talks _ to me.” She stutters slightly, trying to make sense of what Sera had implied, but only shaking her head. “And aside from you, she’s really the only one… She even asked me my name. No one has asked what my first name is..” Adaar’s eyes fall slightly at the revelation. Everyone calls her “Herald” or by her family name- always keeping her at a distance. Sera, however, perks up instantly. 

“You mean ‘Adaar’ isn’t your first name? What have I been friggin’ calling you this whole time?!” Her tone takes on a decidedly more excited note and curiosity takes over full force. “And don’t say your name is ‘Harold’ because that’d just be weird.”  Adaar pales slightly, realizing the door she had opened.    
“No! I mean, I’d rather you call me Adaar, I jus-”

“What, like your name is some big secret? Just tell me!”

“I don’t really like my name…”

“I bet you told Flissa when she asked,” Sera’s emphasis on the barkeeper’s name is anything but complimentary, and it carries an unmistakably petulant quality.

“I didn’t tell her my name,” Adaar pouts. Her eyes darting between Sera and her mug, which is significantly emptier now than it had been a moment ago. “Adaar is my family name. Can we just call me that?”    
“But what could be so bad abo-”   
“Please. I’ll tell you.. Just not now. Please.” Adaar pleads quietly with Sera, hoping that the other woman will accept it and move on.    
“Alright, alright. Another time. Still.. Can’t say I like Adaar much either, but s’better than Herald. Maybe we can make sumthin up!” 

~

“What if I call yooouuuu…” Sera’s face scrunches up in concentration, her body swaying gently- the alcohol finally winning the long battle against sobriety. She giggles, “Nug-Muffin!” Adaar guffaws, her eyes slipping shut as she tries to imagine a nug with horns. She snorts indelicately. 

“I’m way too big to be a nug! And what’s a muffin, anyway?”   
“Frig if I know! Jus’ sounded funny.” Somewhere during the course of the evening, Adaar had moved to the bench Sera occupies. They lean into one another, still chuckling over the names tossed between them. The warrior opens her eyes and beams down at the elf, and she smiles soft and wide. Adaar had missed Sera while she was dealing with the Templars, but the elf had been gone doing something for the Red Jennies. The Qunari opens her mouth to say as much when Flissa approaches; her face holding ill-concealed dislike for the elf, but Adaar can’t quite register the expression in her current state. Flissa turns to face Adaar directly, her back conveniently to Sera, who seethes with annoyance. 

“Lady Herald, if I may…?” Flissa reaches beyond Adaar, her fingers grazing none-too-subtly down the Qunari’s arm. “Your mug is empty. Would you like me to take care of you?” Her fingers stop just at the tips of Adaar’s own, tapping gently. Sera makes a choking, spluttering noise, her eyes widening.    
“‘Ey! What are you on about?” Sera pushes her way forward, trying to squeeze by Flissa. “What d’you mean ‘take care of her’? Not like she’s hurt, is she?” The archer needles, her annoyance more pronounced, though she still absolutely refuses to examine why. Everyone flirts, she flirts all the time with people. Well, maybe not so much lately, but still! “If she needed to be taken  _ care of _ , she’d have bloody well asked!”

“Sera! She just wants to take away the empty mug,” Adaar closes her eyes slowly, her mind foggy from the amount of alcohol she’d consumed. “Isn’t that right, Flissa?” Adaar hardly registers the fingertips still tapping on top of her own, and she closes her hand, her fingers entwining with Flissa’s.

“Of course, Lady Herald. I’m here for whatever you need.” Flissa shoots Sera a triumphant grin, her eyes darting to her hand now encased in Adaar’s much larger one. “It seems to me like she doesn’t require your services tonight.” 

The elf grits her teeth, her jaw flexing under the sudden pressure. 

“It’s fine, yeah?” Sera bites out. Gripping her mug, Sera downs the last of its contents before standing abruptly, the movement jars Adaar enough that she opens her eyes. Only then does she notice the stroking of Flissa’s thumb over her knuckles. Adaar jerks her hand away and gives her hand a small shake, loosening the human’s grip. Sera’s voice cuts through the fog, “See you later,  _ Lady Herald. _ ” The elf doesn’t quite storm out of the building, but the door definitely swings just that much harder on its hinges. 

“Flissa, I need to pay the tab for our drinks..” Adaar stands slowly, trying to get her bearings. “And I need to figure out what’s wrong with Sera.” The Qunari gazes at the door, her mind struggling to follow the sudden shift in atmosphere. 

“Oh, you needn’t pay for your drinks, my Lady. Though the elf will need to return to pay hers.” Flissa’s lips curl into a disdainful smile and she reaches once more for Adaar’s hand.

“I’ll pay for Sera’s drinks.” Adaar says firmly, moving her hand towards her belt. “It isn’t right that I don’t have to pay for mine, but I have a feeling that decision wasn’t yours.”   
“My Lady, the elf’s debt isn’t your responsibility.” Flissa lets her hand drop to her side, her lips forming a small pout. “Let me take care of you, Adaar.” The Qunari twitches, her name sounding suddenly unpleasant and alien coming from Flissa. She shakes her head and digs into the pouch where she keeps the money Josephine gives to her. Grabbing a handful of coins, she puts them on the table.    
“This should cover it. And if it doesn’t, I’ll take care of the rest tomorrow.” Adaar turns and heads for the door, her mind already clearing. She doesn’t hear the noise of disappointment that Flissa makes. 

 

The air outside is cold, and snow must’ve been falling for some time. “It’s up to my bloody ankles,” Adaar breathes. “When did that happen?” She shivers for a second before heading off to look for Sera- her mind charting all of the potential places the elf might be. She stops first at the Chantry and asks one of the sisters of they had seen Sera. Between the looks of confusion and relief, she guesses Sera isn’t here. Adaar turns heel and heads towards the training grounds. Even this late, there are still soldiers out drilling, and she thinks that Sera could be letting off steam by shooting things full of arrows. The warrior trudges down past the tavern again, only sparing the briefest of glances. Sera wouldn’t have returned so quickly. At least, she doesn’t think so. Adaar looks up, her eyes scanning the dark clouds and falling snow as she tries to work through the last few days. She’d gotten so used to sharing a tent with Sera when she traveled, that her absence had felt stark, and the tent far emptier than it ever had. And no one else had even dared offer to share the space with her.  Her thoughts hum along as she approaches the training grounds- several small groups of soldiers spar in the snow. But no sound of arrows. And no one shouting. Which means no Sera. Adaar sighs, her disappointment far heavier in her chest than was perfectly reasonable.  She doesn’t.. Can’t deny to herself that she likes Sera. The elf always has a way of making even the most unpleasant situations better. Seeing a dragon and a giant duke it out? ‘S’brilliant! We can stay and watch, yeah?’, or returning to the Hinterlands  _ yet again _ , for some impossibly trivial errand and hearing a “look! This is where Vivvy took a dump! See how it’s all frozen over?”. Adaar can’t help the grin that spreads over her face, the memory of Sera, Blackwall, herself and even Solas all laughing making it stretch even further. She stops walking for a moment, trying to come up with another possible hideout for the elf, but she knows deep down, that if Sera wanted to be found, Adaar would have done so by now.  Adaar exhales, the fog from her breath rising slowly.  She turns around and heads back through the gates, talking quietly to herself. 

“I like her. Obviously. She sleeps in my tent every night.”  _ Though she doesn’t sleep with you while everyone’s back in Haven _ , her thoughts betray her. “Of course she doesn’t. It’s warmer here.”  _ But you want her to.  _ “Of course I want her to... “ She carries on this solo conversation as she climbs the stone steps beyond the gate. “It’s not like we haven’t slept together before..”  _ You’ve been too shy to go further than actual sleep, and how do you know she wants anything more?  _ Adaar can’t help but poke and prod at her own insecurities. “We’ve slept together plenty of times!” She says a little too loudly. “It’s not like it’s a big de-”. Her right foot hits the first step leading up to her small cabin when something cold and very hard hits her face. Adaar stumbles back as another something connects squarely with her chest.   
“Didn’t think you’d take so friggin long to bring her back, ya shite!” Sera calls from the darkness. A quiet whooshing sound signals the oncoming projectile and Adaar ducks; it strikes her right horn and crumbles. Snow. And… a pebble. Of course. 

“Sera, what are yo-”

PHWAP! Another snowball.

“Did I get her?”   
“Get who? Sera what are you doing? Are you on the roof?!” Adaar squints up, trying to get a lock on the shadow that is the elf. Phomp! Snowball.   
“Flissa, DUH!”

“Why would Flissa be with me?” Adaar asks, incredulous and now certain of a few small, pebble-sized bruises.    
“You  _ just _ said ‘we’ve slept together plenty of times’, so yeah. She’s with you, right?”

“Sera, I’m alone!” the warrior calls out. “Come down from there!”

“Ya loony, why you talkin’ to yourself?”   
“I was thinking!” Adaar almost starts to laugh, the situation so oddly funny and endearing. “Why would you be waiting on my roof to throw snowballs at someone? Why me?”

“I was  _ trying _ to hit Flissa. Figured she’d be with you after the eyeful she gave you at the table.”   
“But why?”   
“Why you gotta know? Jus’ felt like it.” Sera hops off of the roof, as graceful and silent as Adaar could never be. “Who friggin’ talks to themselves like that? And what’re you on about then, if you weren’t talking to anyone?” Sera steps into the torchlight by the cabin door, the tips of her ears as well as her lips are a pale blue.    
“I.. it was nothing,” Adaar answers quickly.  _ If she wanted more, she’d have said so by now _ , the voice in her head taunts. “You look like you’re freezing, let’s go inside.” Adaar takes the remaining steps and opens the door.  Praise the Maker that someone had started a fire not long ago. Another faceless person who serves the Herald; Adaar is determined to find them, thank them profusely, and then ask them to stop. But tonight it can wait. She turns her head to see Sera still planted on the top step, her arms folded over her chest, eyes narrowed. “Honestly Sera, I was only talking to myself. Please.. Come inside before you lose a toe or something.” Sera huffs and stalks into the cabin. She immediately moves towards the fire, small shivers leaving goosebumps up and down her arms. 

“So, when is she coming?” Sera asks testily.    
“When is who coming?” The elf groans. 

“Flissa, of course. I really want to smash her with a good one before I lose my chance.”   
“She isn’t. Why would she be here? I’m lost.”

“She was making eyes at you all night,” Sera says, exasperation dripping from every syllable. Adaar lifts her head, brows knit together. “Figured you two would be going for a shag.” Adaar grimaces.   
“I don’t like her that way.” She grabs a blanket off of the bed and walks slowly towards Sera who is now pacing by the fire. Adaar holds out the blanket in offering. “You’ve got to be cold.” Sera snatches the blanket out of the warrior’s hand and wraps it tightly around herself before dropping hard onto the ground- her legs criss-crossing.    
“Well she was flirting like you do.” 

“I really didn’t notice. She’s just always been nice, I didn’t imagine she’d have had other reasons…” Adaar walks over towards the fireplace and sits down as well, a foot or so away from the elf. “Humans aren’t…” She trails off. 

“Got a thing for elves, do you?” Sera teases. Adaar grins inwardly and takes a deep breath before looking up at Sera.    
“Maybe I do,” she smiles gently. “Before you left, I had meant to say that I really could’ve used you at Therinfal. I guess I missed my bunk buddy.” Adaar quickly looks away, suddenly afraid of seeing the response in Sera’s eyes. The elf, however, smiles broadly and whatever irritation had lingered from the tavern fades almost instantly.    
“You mean you missed being able to kiss me.” It’s less a question and more a statement of fact, and Adaar can’t help the blush that washes over her neck and face.    
“I meant- It was just..” Adaar stutters as a small thrill sweeps through her. Sera scoots closer, their arms now touching. She’s grinning wolfishly up at Adaar. 

“If you want somethin, all you gotta do is ask,” Sera offers. The Qunari swallows and draws in a rattling breath, her mouth opening slowly. A violent shiver rips through Adaar suddenly, and she jerks visibly. “Guess I’m not the only one who’s cold,” Sera snickers.

“We can share, yeah?” She scoots in closer, trying to stretch the blanket across both their shoulders. The blanket comes up short. 

“You keep it,” Adaar says, her eyes soft as she looks at Sera. The elf smirks and stands up, unraveling the blanket from her shoulders before laying it over Adaar. The warrior looks up to where Sera stands, her mouth open to protest. 

“Shut it. It’ll be like best times. You stay there.” Sera commands, and Adaar is helpless to disobey. The elf circles her slowly, her eyes glinting in the firelight. She stands in front of the Qunari, her hands on her hips. “You sit like that, I sit on you, and the blanket fits us both!” She gives a small nod, as though it were the most obvious thing in all of Thedas. Adaar blushes deeper. Sera flops gracelessly into her lap, instantly scooting back as far as she can, humming with what Adaar can only hope is contentment. “There, see? Now we’re both warm!” Adaar nods, her arms winding slowly around Sera as she relaxes.    
“Just like best times,” Adaar concedes quietly, her forehead dropping onto Sera’s shoulder. She can’t help but take a deep breath and the smell that is uniquely the elf’s fills her nose.  _ Definitely like best times _ . Sera leans back against her, the elf’s weight slight and delicate against Adaar’s bulk. The two fall into an easy silence as Sera picks small burrs and pieces of lint off of the warrior’s coat and flicks them into the fire. Adaar chews her bottom lip for a few moments before gathering the courage to speak.    
“So, does this mean you won’t be bunking in the tavern anymore?” Adaar asks hesitantly. Sera tenses, her face screwing up in dislike.    
“Not bloody likely, no. Piss.”   
“There’s.. There’s plenty of space here.” Adaar offers hopefully. Sera turns in her lap to face her. 

“Here? As in your cabin?” Sera’s eyebrows lift, her eyes boring into Adaar’s. The Qunari swallows.    
“I just thought since.. I mean. You don’t have to.” Adaar’s voice fades into a quiet muttering. 

“Did you just invite me to sleep with you? Like, all the time?” Sera’s voice holds a mixture of hope and incredulity in even balance. Adaar takes a deep breath.  _ Now or never _ . She meets the elf’s eyes. 

“I guess I am.. It’s not like we don’t share a tent all the time anyway.” She shrugs, trying to make the offer seem innocuous and nonchalant. 

“You gonna have them bring in an extra bed or something?” Sera prods slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. Adaar blinks hard, the question catching her off guard. 

“Do you want a separate one?”   
“Do  _ you _ ?”

“Wha- no. I just..” Adaar flounders, insecurity and fear course through her veins.  Sera starts to laugh, the sound echoing in the small cabin. 

“Who’d have thought, the great Herald of Andraste too nervous to even ask a girl to share her bed?” She giggles wildly and Adaar drops her head, shame reddening her face until the Qunari refuses to look up. Sera stops laughing when she sees Adaar, and turns fully in the warrior’s lap- her legs straddling Adaar’s waist. Still she refuses to look up. Sera leans in, her fingers curling under Adaar’s chin and lifting it. The elf darts in and places a light kiss on her lips. 

“Who needs another bed. Yours is plenty big.” Adaar looks up, her face still flush and her gaze is uncertain. Sera leans in again, this time placing a slower, deeper kiss as her fingers wrap around the back of Adaar’s neck. She pulls back some long moments later and she bumps the Qunari’s forehead gently. “Guess we’re really shacking up now, eh Herald?” 

Adaar smiles wide, leaning in for another kiss. 


	4. Frozen Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere between Haven and camp. Adaar and Sera both struggle with the attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good gods. I've been sitting on this chapter for nearly two months. Between work and horrible writer's block, you have my deepest apologies for not finishing this chapter sooner. I hated writing this one, and at the end, loved it. And if there are any changes in dialog patterns, it's because I've been watching too much Call the Midwife, and instead of hearing Sera's voice, I was hearing Trixie's- and in this case, that's not at all helpful. Hope this chapter makes up for some of my absence.

The avalanche is deafening. Corypheus has flown, quite literally, and Adaar knows she has a scant few moments to find cover. It’s impossibly loud, and the Qunari turns to see a wall of snow and debris racing towards her. All she can think to do is run. Adaar’s feet slam into the wooden platform as she sets a breakneck pace for the drop in the battlements, her blood pounding in her ears as her heart races. She can feel the snow behind her as the air seems to be sucked back- consumed by the encroaching flow of ice and snow and trees and Maker knows what.  
She jumps.  
For a fleeting moment, with her eyes closed against what is inevitably going to be her death, Adaar can think of precious little. The people who have fought and died for the Inquisition; the regret and guilt of her failure; the companions who were so painfully slowly becoming family; Sera.  
Her feet hit wood as the mountain of snow cascades over her head- the weight of her body crushing the aging timber, dropping her into a deep darkness. Everything is black and Adaar can’t see anything beyond the sickly glow of the anchor. Time shifts around her as the fall seems to last ages. However close or far the ground is, Adaar doesn’t spare it more than a fleeting thought, her mind still on the others and the wild, desperate hope that they were able to at least escape the path of the avalanche. She meets the ground, the momentum of her fall rendering the Qunari unconscious.  
~  
“I think that was the worst of it,” Cullen calls forward. “Most of the snow has stopped moving.”  
“Did we lose anyone?” Cassandra shouts over the low hum of voices, her eyes sweeping over the throng of people tramping their way through the snow.  
“Hard to say with all this friggin’ snow!” Sera snaps. The elf’s heart is still racing; between the fight with Calpernia, the army of mages, watching Adaar make the most stupid, noble, sacrificing, unfair, stupid decision, and the entire fucking mountain falling down, she hasn’t had a moment to breathe easily. She turns, trying to pick out faces in the mass of people, seeking out any injured or those falling behind. The elf spots someone, a young boy who couldn’t be more than ten, struggling in the deep snow. Sera groans inwardly, but turns around, trudging towards him. “Come on, you.” She scoops the boy up into her arms, holding him close as she pulls the coat closer around her shoulders to wrap around the child. He’s so small, she muses. Is this how she felt whenever we’d snuggle up at night? “Nope. Not gonna think ‘bout that.” The boy gives her a look of trepidation and leans away slightly.  
“Y- you ok-k-kay, miss?” he asks through chattering teeth. “Mum used to say that p-people who talked to themselves n-n-needed help.” Sera laughs darkly.  
“S’all good kid. Just trying to keep both feet movin, yeah?” She glances down at him, worry snaking its way through her at the child’s wanness. “And the name’s Sera. Did you lose your mum?” She asks and immediately begins scanning the crowd for a face that matches the boy’s own.  
“She died a few months back,” the boy says blankly. “Killed by a mage running from some Templars. One of the Sisters near Redcliffe sent me to Haven when she heard the Inquisition was there.”  
“Shite!” Sera looks down at the boy. “Double shite! Sorry kid. Shouldn’t be talkin’ like that in front of you, yeah? Though don’t think anyone would care to notice for now…” The elf bites her lip for a second. “What’s your name?”  
“Markus,” the boy shivers hard and tucks himself closer to Sera. His small body shudders in her arms for a few moments before he speaks again- his voice wavering from the cold. “D’you think the Herald is alive? Did she ask the Maker to bring down the mountain to save us?” The earnest question cuts Sera deep- deeper than she cares to admit. “The Sisters all talk about how she was saved by Andraste and was sent to save us from demons. They said she was supposed to fix the world.” He sniffles, “but if she’s dead, who’s gonna save us?” Sera chokes back a sob, her mind racing with thoughts of Adaar buried under feet of snow, suffocating, alone. She screws her eyes shut, willing the images of the other woman’s battered form lying dead somewhere miles behind her.  
“She ain’t dead.” Sera says with a conviction she certainly doesn’t feel. She can’t show it- for the kid’s sake, she tells herself. “She owes me new lock picks, and she wouldn’t be snuffed before paying me back.” The boy’s eyes widen in awe.  
“You know the Herald of Andraste?” He whispers reverently, and his small fingers curl around the leather of her chestpiece. Sera can’t help but smile. She gets his awe. She’d never admit it, but watching Adaar close rifts and fight demons was… well.. Inspiring. The magic she could do without, but it helped to know that Adaar disliked and distrusted it as much as Sera.  
“Yeah kid, I know her. Pretty well, even. We’re-” Sera pauses. What are we? I mean friends, yeah. Friends who kiss and sleep in the same bed. But, felt like more? “We fight demons together, and wander around a lot. Mostly wander.” Sera smiles down at him, the look of awe suddenly replaced by excitement.  
“You mean you’re one of the companions?” He practically squeals, his small body squirming in her grip.  
“Look kid, you either stop movin’ around so friggin much, or I’m puttin you down!” She teases him gently, trying to avoid his sudden interest in her.  
“But you’re one of them!” Markus persists, still squirming.  
“One of who?” The elf fights hard against the exasperation creeping its way out.  
“You’re one of them!” he repeats eagerly. “You’re one of the companions who’s helping her save people!” Markus says it with such finality and fervor that Sera stops walking and stares down at him. Since when did people even know about the others? All people seem to talk about is Adaar. Not that I care, don’t want my name on any lists if this shite happens again. He gasps suddenly. “You’re the elf!” He’s practically shouting. “The one with the bow! I’ve heard stories about you! Can you show me how to shoot? How to be an arcerer?”  
“Slow down, ya loony. What do you mean you’ve heard stories about me?” Sera is suddenly wary, all too aware of the kinds of things people often say about her. None of them complimentary. “B’sides, I think you mean ‘archer’, yeah?” She corrects him gently, a small bundle of warmth settling in her stomach despite her apparent infamy.  
“You!” he squeals again. “I heard you put an arrow in some Avard’s eye from over a hundred paces! You’re legend!”  
“How’d you hear that?” Sera asks, her gaze narrowing down on the kid. “Only person who saw that was Adaar.”  
“Everyone knows that,” Markus says, his impatience at her disbelief is equal parts endearing and disconcerting.  
“Guess the Herald was bragging on me, eh?” She grins. “I mean, it’s all true and whatever, but-”  
“So will you teach me?!” His small hands are now directly gripping her shoulders, eyes brimming with hope and excitement.  
“How ‘bout this. Once we stop walking through this bloody snow and find a good place, I’ll show you a few tricks yeah?” Markus nods vigorously. “Oh! And the Avaar,” she stresses the word as she says it. “Hand of ‘Can’t know Shite’, then ‘Leader-of-a-guy-who-Can’t see Shite’, and now he’s ‘Dead guy don’t do shite. He was huge. They’re all friggin’ big, but he was almost as tall as the Herald!” He inhales slowly, eyes wide with interest.  
“Will you tell me the story?” He’s bouncing in her arms again, pleading with her to divulge the details. She chuckles and stops walking for a moment.  
“Here, you hop onto my back, we’ll wrap this jacket around us both, and I’ll tell you the story.” She stoops, allowing him to clamor onto her back excitedly. “But no squirming!” Markus shakes his head quickly, his small arms looping around Sera’s neck as she resumes the trek through the pass. She takes a deep breath, sending out a silent prayer to Andraste that Adaar is alive and on her way to find them. She friggin’ better be. The elf takes a deep breath and begins to tell the story. “So the Mire, right? Nothin’ but rain…”  
~  
Adaar groans, her whole body aches with pain and cold, but neither compare to the sharp throbbing in her head; she struggles to sit upright, her body swaying with the effort. Shaking her head, Adaar looks around, trying to discern her location, but the cave is nearly pitch black and her only light source is the anchor. She grimaces, noting how much more active it looks now that Corypheus tried to remove it- but it’s a blessing in this moment regardless of her feelings about it. Pushing herself onto her feet, Adaar takes a few very shaky steps forward- her left arm extended in front of her as she uses the mark to light the area ahead. She stops for several minutes to breathe and clear her head of the fog that seemed to roll in when she began falling. Everything comes back to her in painful clarity: the shouts of fear and confusion from the people of Haven; the sounds of soldiers being burned alive and writhing in agony; the grim knowledge that the only way she could save the rest was by sacrificing herself. “Thought you were supposed to forget things when you hit your head,” Adaar says aloud. Her voice echoes uncomfortably off the stone, coming back at her sounding distorted, pejorative. Corypheus survived, and she doesn’t know if she saved the rest, or killed them under a mountain’s worth of snow. She grinds her teeth and starts walking again, determined to find whoever survived and then try again.  
The tunnel takes a long, deep curve and Adaar has to repeatedly shake her arm out to fend away the fatigue of keeping it extended for so long. As the bend straightens out, Adaar groans low. Demons. Fucking demons. And she has nothing. Not a sword, not a shield, nothing but rocks and the anchor. “I’m not going to be killed by four stupid demons,” she growls. She takes up a quick pace, charging towards them. They all turn, their eerie hooded faces now looking directly at her, and Adaar shouts- more than ready to use her bare hands. But the anchor flashes brightly and the Qunari stops mid-dash, raising her hand warily. The mark crackles to life, almost blinding her as she feels heat suffusing through her fingertips. A rift tears open right in front of her and seems to pull the demons in. Her hand trembles as the magic crackles around her and the despair demons look as though they're being pulled apart- like thread being loosed from a stitch. Several moments pass as Adar gazes between her hand and the rift and the disappearing demons and back again, bewildered and inexplicably grateful for this new bit of crazy coming from her hand. The rift fizzles out slowly and the green glow of her hand is once again all that illuminates the cavern. Taking several steps back, Adaar leans into the stone trying to gather her thoughts. “The cave has to end soon,” she mutters. “I can feel the air moving.” The Qunari sighs, peering down at her hand. “Friggin’ hate magic, but at least this’ll come in handy.” She laughs suddenly, her own inadvertent joke finally catching up. “Too bad no one heard it. Wasted.” Adaar tuts to herself, thinking of the others and where they might be- whole heartedly refusing to entertain the idea that she won't be able to find someone to share it with. The others had to survive. She shivers suddenly, the chill in the stone and in the air starting to seep into her skin. “Better keep moving,” she mumbles before pushing off the wall and heading towards the air she felt earlier.  
It’s slow going, her body stiff and sore from the battle, and the sudden tumble into the caves below did nothing to help. But Adaar is grateful regardless, nothing feels broken. The only time her being an ‘oxman’ has been helpful is when it comes to physical injury, and lately it seems to be more and more useful. She stumbles along, her progress only marked by the growing drafts of air around her. Adaar isn’t sure how much time has passed, but she’s grateful for the faint light she can see up ahead. The mark on her hand is useful, she won’t deny, but actively having to see it and look at it just makes her queasy. She nears the mouth of the cave, noting the upswing in cold air and shivers again. “Figures I would’ve forgotten to grab a coat.” Adaar takes a deep breath, bearing down as she steps into the driving snow.  
~  
“Is that everyone?” Cassandra turns towards Cullen, her eyes still scanning the mass of people settling into the small, sheltered valley Chancellor Roderick had shepherded them to.  
“There are still a few making their way in, but it looks like we didn’t lose anyone.” Cullen tromps through the calf-deep snow towards Cassandra who still scans the pass behind them. He takes a deep breath, a heavy feeling in his chest. “Do you think she made it?” Cassandra exhales hard, her eyes dropping shut.  
“Maker willing.” Cassandra drags the back of her hand over her eyes and cranes her neck side to side hoping to relieve some of the pressure that yet lingers. “She survived the conclave, and I must have faith that she-” Cassandra’s eyes open only to find Sera making her way through the snow, a small boy hoisted on her back, his small arms wrapping around her neck. “Maker! Sera is that a.. is that a child?” The Seeker’s eyes widen as the elf comes closer, obviously engrossed in an incredibly animated story, her free arm gesturing wildly and her eyes bright. Cullen turns around, his eyes also falling on the strange sight.  
“Maker’s breath!” Cullen starts to jog towards the elf, eyes darting between the archer and the small boy on her back. Cassandra is close behind, still calling out to Sera, trying to gain her attention.  
“And there she is, being all big and brave and Herald-y, gettin locked up shield te shield with this arsehole, and I see my chance! So I nock an arrow, and WHAM! Got him right in the friggin’ eye! Shoulda seen her face!” She tosses her head back and laughs, while the boy just stares wide-eyed and still soaking in the story.  
“Did you hurt the Herald?” Markus asks almost reverently, his small hands gripping unconsciously at the elf’s neck. “And did the Hand of Karth kill your men?” The archer smiles, her mouth opening to continue the story when Cassandra’s voice finally reaches her.  
“Sera! Where did you find that child?!” The Seeker’s eyes are huge, confusion and apprehension lacing her words as she takes stock of the small boy on the elf’s back. “You didn’t… steal him, did you?” Sera cackles as Cassandra reaches an arm out, her fingers inches away from the child.  
“He was gettin’ left behind, someone had to make sure he didn’t freeze out there,” Sera flicks her wrist, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “B’sides, who’d want to steal a kid anyway? They can’t do much, ‘cept be good company in shite weather.” She grins, her head turning to get a look at Markus who is beaming on her back.  
“Sera’s one of the Herald’s companions!” Markus says matter-of-factly. “She’s amazing! She even shot a man in his eye!” Sera grins at Cassandra, the desire to stick her tongue out at the woman mastered by the very real possibility of the Seeker pulling it out of her head if she tried.  
“There’s tents and fires set up,” Cullen says. “Maybe you can find the boy’s parents?” Markus tenses slightly, his arms wrapping around Sera’s neck a fraction tighter.  
“He ain’t got none.” Sera glares at Cullen. “Chantry sisters were takin’ care of him at Haven. Did a piss job seein’ as how he was left behind.” Cassandra’s eyes bugmomentarily, her mouth opening in surprise.  
“Oh. I see.” She clears her throat and takes a small step to the side. “Cullen is right. There are fires set up, and we’re trying to get tents up and supplies together for the night. You two should probably warm up a bit and settle in for the night. Maker knows how long we will have to stay here.” Cassandra points towards a near fire several soldiers are working on building. “It has been a hard journey, and you should rest.”  
Sera stoops down, letting the boy slide off of her back. Laying her hand on the top of his head, she notices how cold it is and nudges him towards the fire.  
“You go on and get warm, and I’ll be right there.”  
“But you didn’t finish your story!” Markus whines, his small feet pounding in the snow.  
“I can’t bloody well finish a story if you’re frozen solid, now can I?” Sera can’t help but smile. “You go on and warm up, I’ll find us some food and be there in a few.” She pats him on the back, coaxing him towards the fire. Looking up at the soldiers stationed by the flames she yells. “Oi! You! Anything happens to him, you’ll have an arrow in your eye faster than you can say ‘Andraste’! Got it?” The nearest soldiers nods and salutes, his fist thumping his chest. The elf turns on Cullen and Cassandra, all warmth suddenly gone from her voice. “Where is she?” Cullen turns slightly, placing his back towards the fire and gesturing for Sera to follow suit.  
“We’ve been waiting for the last of the group to get in and settled, and then we’re going to send out a search party for her.” Cullen’s voice is firm and low.  
“So she survived?” Sera asks, hope lighting up her eyes. “She’s alive?”  
“We don’t know,” Cassandra adds, gravely. “But we must have faith that she made it.” The Seeker takes a few steps farther from the camp’s edge, her voice a low whisper.  
“Faith?!” Sera shrieks. “Faith my arse.” The elf begins pacing around the two warriors, her bottom lip being worried between her teeth. “We need to be out there looking for her right now! She could be bloody freezing to death!” Sera’s eyes are wild and all thoughts of the cold vanish. She takes a steeling breath and immediately marches back towards the mountain pass.  
“Sera!” Cullen shouts, taking a few long steps to reach her. His hand stretches out and wraps lightly around her wrist. Sera jerks at the touch, both startled and annoyed by the Commander’s sudden familiarity with her.  
“Let go!” She grinds her teeth and pulls her wrist free. “We need to find her.” The elf’s voice holds an edge and determination the Commander could swear he’s never heard.  
“We are going to look as soon as it’s safe to do so. If we rush out now, someone will get hurt and it’ll make finding the Herald even harder.” Cullen’s voice is steady as he reaches out again for the elf. “I promise you we will find her. One way or another.”  
“Don’t say it like that!” Sera half yells half sobs. “Don’t say it like she’s dead. She can’t be dead.” She takes several more jogging steps out into the snow, her shoulders set against the wind.  
“Sera!” A small voice rings out through the clearing in the valley. “Where are you going?” Markus is running as quickly as his legs can manage through the snow, dashing towards the elf. “Why are you leaving me?” He catches up to her faster than either expected and crashes into her side. His eyes are wide as he looks up at the elf, confusion and hurt shadowing his small face. A knot forms in the elf’s throat as she looks at the child. “I thought you were going to finish your story?” His voice is plaintive and small as his eyes fall with disappointment. “Are you going to leave me, too?” The pain in his voice cuts Sera deep and she reaches for the boy’s hand, wrapping it snugly within her own.  
“No kid. I’m sorry. Jus’ worried about the Herald,” she says by way of explanation. But it’s weak, even in her ears. “Don’t want to leave her out in the snow either,” she adds with a laugh that sounds suspiciously like a whimper. Cassandra takes a step towards the pair, placing a hand on the elf’s shoulder. Her face is set firm as her fingers gently squeeze the other woman’s shoulder.  
“We will find her, Sera.” The Seeker’s voice is steady as she slowly steers the elf back towards the camp. “But we are of use to no one when we are half frozen and weary from the journey.” Sera’s eyes flash up to Cassandra’s, full of doubt and annoyance. “We will find her.” Cassandra reiterates, sighing in exasperation. “But you and this young man need to rest.” Cullen slides away from the three and jogs back towards a small group of soldiers, doling out orders, while Sera scoops Markus up and walks slowly with Cassandra towards one of the large fires roaring in the camp. Sera releases the boy and flops down in a huff by the fire, the reality of how cold she is hitting her now that she’s by a source of heat. Markus stands quietly for a moment, his eyes searching the flames.  
“Do you want to leave, Sera?” His voice is small and resigned, certain that he's about to be left again.  
“Wha? No!” She reaches for the boy and tugs him into her lap, her right arm looping around his stomach. “I was just..” She stops, trying to find the words to explain to him why it was so important for her to find Adaar. “It’s like this, yeah? The Herald owes me lockpicks.” Cassandra snorts indelicately, nods briefly towards Sera and marches away to join Cullen. Sera watches her go, tongue pushed out in a silent raspberry before refocusing on Markus. “And I’m… scared of losing her. We need the Herald now more than ever.” She sighs heavily, head drooping down towards her chest. “But I’m not losin’ you either, so don't go gettin’ any ideas.” He nods, his face turned away from the fire, his small eyes trained towards the pass they only recently trekked through.  
“She's coming back,” he says with conviction. “The Maker wouldn't just take her away.” Sera exhales hard, arm tightening around him. The Maker does all kinds of piss.  
“You feelin’ warmer?” Sera asks, trying hard to reign her thoughts back to the here and now. “You gettin’ hungry?”  
~  
The cold is biting. Her body screaming with every step forward, protesting against every twitch of muscle. Adaar grits her chattering teeth, her head dropped low to protect her eyes from the freezing wind.  
Step.  
Step.  
Step.  
Her boots sink into the deep drift every few feet and the struggle to drag herself out increases tenfold each time; but she has to keep going. The traces of a fire she had found kept her moving- it was cold when she found it, but still not yet covered by the incessant snow- they couldn’t be far. Somewhere in the distance, wolves howl, Adaar wonders if she should be worried about them. But worrying takes energy she doesn’t have, energy she can’t spare because she needs to find them. She has to find them.  
Step.  
Step.  
“Fuck!” she grunts, her right foot sunken into a deep drift. “Maker’s hairy balls!” She lolls her head back, eyes squinted against the driving snow. Groaning, the Qunari reaches down, wrapping her hands around her leg and hefting. Panting hard, her leg now free of the snow, Adaar takes a moment- just a moment- to breathe. The crest of the mountainside is getting closer and closer, she hopes, almost begs the Maker that she’ll at least find another sign. “I can’t stop.” She pants hard. “I have to find them, but Maker it’d be so much easier without all of this bloody snow.” She remains standing there, the moment turning into several minutes of blank gazing; she knows she has to move, she knows she has to find them, she knows. But knowing and making her body move again are two separate, seemingly incompatible, things. Adaar closes her eyes, letting her mind fill and empty over and over, the ebb and flow matching only the inconsistent and oddly temperamental wind around her. It’s only when she hears a howl- a particularly loud and particularly close one- that she exhales hard. Inhales slowly. And starts walking again.  
Step.  
...  
Step.  
...  
Step.  
...  
Step.  
...  
Step.  
...  
Exhaustion weighs her down, feels like she’s carrying a dragon, like she’s carrying an entire mountain on her back. Adaar stumbles, her hands sinking into the cold snow. She hangs her head, letting her horns dig into the slush and ice and snow. A sob sweeps through her and Adaar makes a muted choking sound- her tears freezing on her face only moments after being loosed. “Maker I failed them,” she continues to sob, her whole body convulsing in time with each wave of tears that comes. She lifts her head eventually, hard lines mark her face where the tears have fallen, and she screws her eyes nearly closed as she looks at the mountain’s crest- scant few feet in front of her. She swears by Andraste there’s a glow somewhere off in the valley below, but Adaar knows. She’s heard stories of the ravings of dying people. She knows that when death comes, she’ll see what she wants the most. Adaar’s breathing is ragged, her chest quaking with the effort of just drawing breath. Her vision tunnels. “Se-”. Her arms give out. “Sera.”  
…  
…  
“There! It’s her!” Cullen’s shout is hardly heard through the blowing snow.  
“Thank the Maker!” Cassandra’s relief and stress breaking free at the sight of the nearly frozen Qunari.  
“Quick!” Cullen shouts. “Get her onto a sled!” The commander jogs through the knee-deep snow towards Adaar, his arms immediately lifting to remove his heavier cloak and drape it over the Herald. It takes four soldiers to lift the Qunari’s bulk onto the sled and another few minutes of adjusting before the group begins the journey down into the valley below. Cullen pulls aside the smallest, his gloved fist tight around the young man’s sleeve. “Go back down ahead of us. Let Mother Giselle know we’re coming. Be quick about it and don’t wake the whole camp.” Cullen turns back to look at Adaar, her blue lips and shivering body is both a miracle, and entirely unsettling. “Go!” He nearly shouts, before the man runs off ahead of them. Cassandra moves towards Cullen’s side, her eyes trained dead ahead on the soldier.  
“Do you believe that is wise?” She asks quietly. “Sending him ahead of us like that? What if she doesn’t..” The Seeker’s words die in her throat. “What if the Herald doesn’t survive the trip into the valley? Maker knows how long she’s been out here.” Cullen’s face is stony, his jaw working hard.  
“She will make it,” he says quietly. “And the healers need to be ready. She’s going to need care if she’ll make it through this.”  
“She has survived so much,” Cassandra muses quietly. “Surely the Maker would not take her from us now.”  
“Let’s hope you’re right.” Cullen places a heavy hand on Cassandra’s shoulder, only his gaze betraying the fear and hope inside. He gives the Seeker’s arm a brief squeeze before turning to the remainder of the soldiers. “Let’s go men!” His orders are clear and crisp and betray none of his own exhaustion. “We must get the Herald back to camp! Quickly!” And so the group, spurred on by faith and hope and their Commander’s unflagging leadership, make headway down the mountain.  
~  
Sera’s heart is actively trying to beat its way out of her chest. She saw the soldier come into camp, saw his bee-line straight to Mother Giselle and the healers. “Adaar,” she breathes out. She’s up and on her feet before her mind even has time to catch up. She wants to run, to see her, to hear Adaar’s heartbeat, strong and steady and unending - it has to be unending- just the same as she has for so many nights. But the boy, asleep and so trusting, needs her too. “Piss.” Though the word holds no venom, no real feeling of annoyance. The elf stoops and picks him up, his small body leaning solid and heavy against her while his breath tickles her neck. She stands by the fire, her eyes trained on the space between tents, waiting. Watching. Sera nearly cries when she finally sees her. And it’s wrong. So wrong. Adaar should be walking, tall and strong, ahead of them. Not lying on a sled, still as-. No. She won’t say it. She won’t give any opportunity for the worst to happen. Not when Adaar’s come back. The elf walks as quickly as she can without jostling the boy, dodging people here and there as she pushes closer and closer towards Adaar.  
Cassandra looks up in time to see Sera closing in and immediately walks out towards her. The Seeker’s hand is already up, forestalling any words Sera might’ve had.  
“She’s alive.” Cassandra says bluntly. “But just barely.” The elven woman sags with relief, her grip on Markus loosening enough that she slips down her torso several inches. “But we must get her to the healers right away.” Sera opens her mouth to protest and is again silenced by Cassandra’s armored hand. “Sera,” she says pointedly. “I will notify you the moment the healers are finished. And after that you do not have to leave her side. I know how..” Cassandra pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words. “I know how important she is to you. But please, for now, let the healers make sure she’ll be alright.” Tears prick hard at Sera’s eyes as she nods, her weight shifting restlessly from one foot to the other. She wants to say something, anything, to express the profound gratitude now saturating her body, but she can’t. She can only nod and trudge towards the nearest tent to wait.  
She wakes to the sound of Cassandra’s voice and the Seeker’s hand jostling her shoulder. All Sera needs to hear is “you can see her now” before she’s up and collecting Markus. She moves fast, her mind running a thousand leagues ahead of her body as she nearly runs to where Adaar is lying. There’s a roaring fire close by- to raise her temperature and keep her warm, no doubt. She looks down, her eyes roaming everywhere at once. Adaar’s lips are still so blue, her skin almost ashen, and her chest rises and falls in rapid, shallow breaths. Something in Sera breaks, and a sob forces its way past her lips and out into the open. She sinks to her knees, allowing relief and fear and wonder, and something so, so warm, envelop her. She doesn’t know how long she stays like that, crying silently, she only knows time has passed because her knees ache from the hard-packed ground below her. The elf stands slowly, walking to the other side of Adaar’s makeshift pallet. Glancing down at Markus, she lays the boy next to Adaar and tucks the large blanket covering Adaar over him as well. She walks slowly back to the other side and scoots herself under the blanket, her body pressing as close as she can make it against Adaar. Sera sniffles for a few moments before dragging her hand across her eyes in an effort to dry the tears still clinging to her cheeks. The elf stares for a few more minutes, her mind working hard to process the last hours.  
“Knew you’d come back,” she whispers. “But you gotta stop dyin’, you. Third time’s the charm an’ all that. First the explosion, then whutshisdanglebag, and then mountain. The friggin’ mountain falls on you.” Sera’s voice begins to rise, “You!” she almost shouts. “You dropped a bleeding mountain on your own head! You’re too bloody noble.” Somewhere in the adjacent tent, Mother Giselle shushes her. Sera ducks her head, suddenly mollified. “You nearly died to save us.” Sera tucks her face against the Qunari’s shoulder and allows herself to drift to sleep. 

Adaar will never remember stirring, or leaning into the warmth next to her. In years to come, she’ll only remember the smell of the elf lying next to her, and she’ll remember it as though she walked to the Maker’s seat and found the only thing she wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any suggestions on where to take the story or even ideas for other things you'd like to see, you can totally find me at cosmos-in-a-hazlenut.tumblr.com - I'd love to hear from you!


	5. Skyhold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition begins to settle into Skyhold- Adaar and Sera get to spend some quality time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of an interlude chapter, mostly chatter and filler. I didn't feel comfortable jumping from one busy chapter to the next. And I felt like Sera and Adaar needed a chance to reconnect after the attack on Haven/the avalanche. So I guess, enjoy! The next chapter is going to be hefty!

“So. You're the Inquisitor now.” Sera’s words aren't so much a question as observation. Adaar shrugs slightly as she leans back onto her hands. The roof stinks but she's more than content to sit here with the elf and just watch the people in the courtyard, so she says nothing about it.

“Guess I am.”

“Doesn't that mean you should be inside? Movin’ bits about on that big fancy table of yours?”

“You've been to the War Room?” Adaar turns to look at Sera, she's surprised and more than a little confused.

“O’ course I seen it! D’you think I could resist going in there?” The Inquisitor pales only slightly, fully aware of the kind of mischief Sera can get up to when left to her own devices. Beside her the elf laughs. “Don't look like such a scared nug- I didn't do nothin to your fancy table.” Her smile is wide and Adaar can't help but gaze serenely. 

“As long as you don't make Leliana mad, I think everything will be fine.” 

“Wouldn't want to, her. Sister Scary.” Sera shivers in mock fear and turns to face Adaar. “But I mean, shouldn't you be inside? With them?” It's Adaar’s turn to shiver, the thought of the dark room and the sheer weight of the choices she's forced to make.. no one should have that kind of power. Sera continues. “But instead the almighty Inquisitor is sitting on a danky roof with a thief.” 

“I don't like being in there,” Adaar confesses. Huffing quietly, the Qunari tilts her head back, face to the sun. “I look at that map and I see all the people that are counting on us to win. And I didn't ask for it.”

“And that's why it's gotta be you,” Sera states matter-of-factly. “Anyone who  _ does _ want it is a daft tit and bound to fuck things up for everyone.” Adaar turns to look at Sera- she's not surprised by the elf’s intelligence. She's known it's been there since they met. Most people just can't get beyond her tendency towards extravagant mischief and blatant disregard for order to see it. “But you, you know what's right. You don't want to be that person, so you're perfect for it. Plus, you glow!” Adaar chuckles, flashing back to their first whirlwind meeting in the courtyard. 

“I guess you're right,” the Inquisitor says obligingly. Sera lands a playfully solid punch on the Qunari’s arm. 

“Course I’m right!” Sera flops onto her back, her right hand held above her face to block the sunlight from her eyes. Adaar’s eyes track her movement, wanting to say something about the cleanliness of the roof, but she remembers herself and her company and chooses, instead, to simply lace her fingers with Sera’s.

“You help me remember the little people we're fighting for.” The Inquisitor gazes down at Sera. “And I think..” she hesitates for a moment, tightening her grip on the elf’s hand. “I think  _ you _ give me something to fight for.” Sera sits up suddenly, her eyes trained hard on Adaar’s and a slight frown creasing her brows. 

“Now what do you mean by that cause I-” Adaar interrupts her, pulling the elf gently towards her. Sera relaxes almost instantly, leaning fully into the Qunari. Adaar stares softly at her, a smile breaking out over her face before she leans down, her lips pressing intently against Sera’s. The elf sinks into the kiss for a few long moments before pulling back with an impish grin. “If you're trying to bed me on a roof, you got another thing comin.”

“I'd never do that. I was just… thanking you.”

“Thanking me?” Sera’s tone is decidedly incredulous. “Whut for?” Adaar grins. 

“For being my bunk buddy. For staying with me after Haven. For inviting me onto your roof. For fighting alongside me all this time. For a hundred reasons. Take your pick.” Adaar leans down again, her right hand lacing into Sera’s hair and pulling her in close. Sera throws her arms around the Qunari’s neck, and squirms her way to straddling the Inquisitor’s lap, peppering fast, sloppy and haphazard kisses against Adaar’s face and lips. 

“What if I want to pick somethin’ else?” She grins between pecks. Adaar chuckles warmly, arms tightening around the elf’s much smaller waist. 

“As long as it’s in my power as newly-dubbed Inquisitor, I guess you could pick whatever you wanted.” 

“Inquisitor,” Sera mulls the word around in her mouth, not entirely fond of the polysyllabic mess and formality it holds. “Can’t say I like the full title… In-quizz-y-tor,” she exaggerates the title for emphasis. “If it were shorter…” Sera trails off, leaning in again for small kisses, her hands dragging up the length of the Qunari’s spine. 

“You want to shorten my title?” Adaar nips at Sera’s bottom lip. Sera nips back, her nose scrunching up into a mischievous grin. 

“It’s just so long and boring!” Her hands glide up the back of Adaar’s neck, fingers dragging over her scalp until they reach the Inquisitor’s horns. Sera pauses, realizing that she’s never really spent time looking at Adaar’s horns before. Their wide open curl makes her look almost like a ram. She giggles. Only if a ram were absolutely gigantic and could heft a shield almost as tall as she was. “I like your horns,” Sera says plainly. “Bull’s are just so.. Out there. But yours, they look soft.” Adaar snorts.  _ Yup, definitely a ram _ , Sera thinks. “I know they aren’t soft, I’m not daft. But they look-” Sera struggles to find the right word. Sure they convey strength and power, but their large curl, and subtle ridges make it a more refined power, plus, they’re nearly jet black. Sera nearly falls backwards at the thought. “INKY!” she shouts at Adaar- who, for her part, is caught entirely off-guard by the sudden shift in volume. “You’re inky!” Sera bounces emphatically, glee clear on her face. Adaar frowns slightly.

“You want me to be called ‘Inky’ instead of Inquisitor?” Truthfully, Adaar doesn’t mind the change, but she can just see the looks on Cassandra and Leliana’s faces at her sudden change in title. 

“S’much better, innit?” Sera is positively beaming, her deft hands wrapping around the base of Adaar’s horns as an anchor for her fervent bouncing. 

“I’m trying to imagine the soldiers calling me Inky..” The Qunari grimaces slightly, but Sera pauses in her bouncing, Adaar’s words striking a chord within her. 

“Wait.” Sera settles hard in Adaar’s lap, her eyes boring straight in the warrior’s own. “Only I can call you that. Better than callin’ you Inquisitor all the time, yeah. But only I can. You’re  _ my _ Inky.” As if to punctuate the claim, Sera pulls hard on Adaar’s horns, forcing the larger woman to bend down so Sera can claim a kiss. Adaar chuckles and obliges the elf, leaning forward into the kiss with her arms wrapping tightly around the Sera’s waist. Sera hums in the back of her throat, arms drifting down to rest lazily over the Qunari’s shoulders- her mind pleasantly blank as she focuses on the feeling of Adaar’s lips against hers. Adaar’s eyes close as she lets herself drift entirely into the sensations that Sera brings- the weight of her title, the entire world falling to pieces, all of it slipping into blissful nothing. The elf’s slow, easy kisses are interrupted by a grin splitting the woman’s face. Sera leans back and waits for Adaar’s eyes to open before she grins even larger. 

“I know what I’m picking,  _ Lady Inquisitor _ .”   
“Do you now?” Adaar can’t help but smile in return, basking in Sera’s growing enthusiasm.

“Yup!” Sera practically jumps out of Adaar’s lap and lands lightly on the roof. “I happen to know that your quarters have been completed as of this morning.” 

“How do y-”

“And that’s where we’re going to go.” Sera offers her hand to the still-sitting Qunari, fingers wiggling in both the request to stand and the demand that she be followed. Adaar mock sighs before placing her own hand in the elf’s and allowing her the impression of helping the larger woman stand. Sera smiles widely and gives Adaar a quick, small kiss before pulling her through the open window and back into the tavern. Adaar follows along just a step behind, allowing herself the chance to stare openly at Sera’s back. It amazes her to no end how someone as small as Sera is able to draw a bow that seems nearly as large as she is. The Qunari can’t help but trace the tanned muscle that connects Sera’s neck to her shoulders and is gripped- and significantly startled- by the impulse to sink her teeth into the elf’s skin. Feeling eyes on her, Sera turns to see that Adaar’s eyes are hazy and that the woman looks almost lost. She backpedals, backing out of the tavern with her eyes trained on Adaar, a smile playing lightly on her face. The two exit the tavern and veer off to the right, and it’s that movement that finally shakes Adaar out of her trance. 

“I thought we were going…” She gestures uselessly towards the castle proper, her mouth just on the other side of slack. Sera smiles wickedly.

“Don’t you worry your pretty face. We’re  _ definitely _ going there.” Sera skips ahead a few paces, taking the stone steps that lead into the courtyard. “But first, we have to make a quick stop at the kitchens.” Adaar simply nods and follows the elf down the steps and into the ramshackle courtyard. She can’t help but feel guilty for the soldiers lying on the ground, wounded and dying because of her. Adaar’s gait slows to a near halt, the responsibility of their lives driving her to go towards them. Sera stops walking and turns around to see the flash of hurt on the Qunari’s face. Sera chews her bottom lip for a moment before walking to Adaar’s side. She lays her hand gently on the woman’s bicep, 

“You saved a lot of people.” Adaar deflates.

“I didn’t do enough.”

“You dropped a mountain on yourself,” Sera bristles at the memory, willing the sound of the avalanche to just. leave. her. head. “You saved them.” She says firmly, her fingers curling into Adaar’s arm before tugging gently. She doesn’t want to lose the momentum they’d built, and she really did have plans for the kitchen. Adaar drops her head for a moment and tries to let the gravitas of the situation melt away so she can focus on the elf next to her. She nods once before looking up again and seeking out Sera, giving the elf a smile. 

“Let’s go,” Adaar says quietly, drawing her hand down the length of Sera’s arm until their fingers tangle together. They walk in silence for a moment- Sera bouncing as she walks- before Adaar finally thinks to ask about the kitchens. “So, why are we stopping by the kitche-” A small voice rings out from behind them, interrupting Adaar’s would-be question. 

“Sera! Sera!” Markus calls out over the hum of voices in the courtyard. The elf turns around, seeking out the familiar voice. “Sera guess what!” Markus comes flying towards them, his small legs working hard to cover the distance. When he sees Adaar, he nearly grinds to a stop, his chest heaving as he looks up at her. His focus shifts instantly as he takes in the sight of the Herald. “Told Sera the Maker wouldn’t take you away,” he says, his tone as light and unthinking as could be expected from a child. As though his certainty was the sole determining factor in Adaar’s survival. The Inquisitor envied him his certainty. She looks between Sera and the child, noting the softness and affection radiating from the elf. Adaar hadn't asked about the sudden shine to the boy Sera had taken, and Sera -for her part- didn't offer an explanation beyond ‘he needed help’. Enough people had relayed the events, mystified beyond belief at the archer’s oddly maternal attachment to the boy. Adaar looks down at him, sees him watching her with interest. 

“Of course I returned,” Adaar says as a small, lopsided smile spreads on her lips. “Thanks for looking out for Sera, for me.” The boy beams and Sera offers a good-natured laugh as she looks down at him, smiling. Adaar is struck by the odd serenity and natural domesticity of the moment- her attention focused entirely on the elf. A few moments pass in silence before Markus remembers himself. 

“Sera!” She kneels down, one arm extended out for him. He rushes her eagerly. “The Commander said he'd let me train with the soldiers once everything was up and running! He said-” Markus stops abruptly, his ears turning slightly pink. “He said I could stay with you! That I wouldn't have to stay in the barracks.” Markus rushes his words and anticipation lingers in his small twitching fingers. Sera smiles wide, her arm tightening around him in a hug. Sera smiles wide. 

“All right Little Soldier, here’s what I was thinkin: I’m going to be staying up there,” Sera stands and points a long finger towards the tavern in the upper courtyard. “Because from there, I can stick any baddies goin’ up those steps if I need to.” Her arm swings to the left to the tower they just passed. “That’s where I need you to stay, yeah? It’s safe and close enough that I can get you if somethin’ happens.” Adaar can’t help but smile and lean down towards the elf’s ear.

“Does this mean you’ll come for me?” Adaar whispers conspiratorially, inwardly thrilled by the slight blush tinting Sera’s ear. The elf clears her throat, trying to covertly jab the Qunari in the ribs.  _ Maker I hope I’ll come for you _ . Sera shakes herself back to the moment, looking down at Markus.    
“Sound good, Little Soldier?”

“But I want to stay with you!” He whines, a hint of a pout on his lips. Sera opens her mouth to reply, but Adaar cuts her off. 

“But that’s the perfect place to look after Sera,” she says gently. “You’ll be the first one to see  _ anyone _ coming up from the valley.” Sera turns quickly, her gaze questioning but almost relieved. She couldn’t realy tell a ten year old that she didn’t exactly plan to be sleeping in the tavern. Nor had she really said anything to Adaar.  _ Better get on that _ . “I need you there,” Adaar adds for emphasis. The sudden responsibility hits Markus and he stands ramrod straight. 

“You.. you need  _ me _ ?” Disbelief colors his question. 

“Anyone who can take care of Sera is as important to the Inquisition as I am.” Markus’ eyes widen, awe-struck by the Herald’s purported need of him. 

“See?” Sera adds. “Perfect! Now, go on and scout out a good place, yeah? I’ll be back after dinner and you can show me!” 

“Okay!” Markus rushes forward and wraps his arms around the elf’s thighs in a tight hug. “See you later Sera!” He dashes off, skidding to a halt seconds later and turning around. He stops, suddenly unsure of how to address the Herald. Adaar smiles and waves at him, causing another wave of bashful smiles and nods to be sent her way. He turns, dashing off to the tower without looking back. Adaar smiles down at Sera, warmth suffusing through her chest at the mental image of the three of them. Sera looks up at Adaar, reading the expression plainly on the Qunari’s face. 

“What’s the face for?” She asks, teasingly. Adaar blushes slightly, hesitant to voice such domestic thoughts. She swallows and mutters quickly. 

“It’slikewehaveakid.” Sera laughs loudly, standing on her toes to kiss Adaar. 

“Good thing we were on our way to make a baby, yeah?” The elf chuckles at Adaar’s deep blush.

“That’s not what I-” Sera kisses her again, interrupting the flow of Adaar’s words.

“We got plenty of time for that, yeah? Now, to the kitchen!” Sera starts off towards the lower entrance with Adaar beside her, silently, desperately contemplating the implications. As they approach the door to the kitchens, Sera halts and presses her hand flat against Adaar’s chest. “Now, when we go in there, the workers maaaay be a little unhappy to see me,” Sera offers by way of a warning. “So what I need you to do, is be all big and Inquizzy, and don’t let ‘em kick me out.” Sera’s cheshire grin does nothing to appease Adaar’s apprehension and curiosity.    
“Sera, what did you-” Adaar’s question is cut off by the rapid approach of a scout. 

“Inquisitor!” She calls out. “Been sent for you. Sister Leliana said you were needed urgently in the war room. She said to fetch you right away.” Adaar sighs, shrinking into herself.  _ Of course it has to be now _ . Sera pouts heartily beside Adaar who is herself helpless to do anything but pout in equal measure. Adaar groans inwardly before offering the elf a deeply apologetic look. Turning back to look at the scout, the Inquisitor nods for her to lead the way. Sera sidesteps up to Adaar and silently demands a kiss- one the Qunari is more than happy to give. The elf takes the opportunity to whisper in Adaar’s ear. 

“You gonna owe me, yeah? Gotta break in those fancy chambers of yours.” Sera smiles and scoots off back towards the kitchen door- but not before placing a swift smack to Adaar’s ass. The Qunari’s eyes widen at the gesture, shock and amusement causing her to stop walking. The scout turns, noticing the hold up. 

“Inquisitor?” She asks, pulling Adaar back into the present. 

“Yes. Right. Let’s go.” Adaar gives a glance back to see the elf disappearing through the kitchen door before turning and walking faster towards the castle. 

She swears she can hear shouting from inside the kitchens and smiles. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any suggestions on where to take the story or even ideas for other things you'd like to see, you can totally find me at cosmos-in-a-hazlenut.tumblr.com - I'd love to hear from you!


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